Dolven
by Miranda Raizel
Summary: "I'm not evil epitomized and he's not the Antichrist incarnate. Look, if either of us actually believed that then we would belong here. This is my mother's doing on my end and a psychotic break or episode on his. Nothing more." This is a crossover between 'Bates Motel' and 'Damien' there's no category for it yet so I'll fix it once there is.
1. I Descry

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related with or to the shows 'Bates Motel' or 'Damien'. Like characters etc.

 **Pairing:** Norman/Damien

 **Summary:** "I'm not evil epitomized and he's not the Antichrist incarnate. Look, if either of us actually believed that then we would belong here. This is my mother's doing on my end and a psychotic break or episode on his. Nothing more."

 **M note:** I saw one episode of each show. I did a little research but I will probably be off-ish on some details. It's irrelevant though since this story will lean towards the Asylum AU side.

The romance will be slow built cause that's fun and it won't even be that excessive. This takes place around season 4 of Bates Motel and season 1 of Damien. The characters are probably ooc and I'm not sure where I'll take this even though the ending is pretty much set.

* * *

 **Dolven**

"Oh. We're just going to start off the whole introduction thing with me, ay? Okay. My name is Damien Thorne. I just got back from Damascus, Syria..about a week ago. I'm a war photographer..."

He's not sure what else to say so he'll finish this quickly. There's probably a time limit on this and it's not like anyone other than the psychiatrist is actually paying attention.

"I don't believe in coincidence. Not anymore. That's pretty much the reason why I'm here, in the nut house."

Damien doesn't look at the people sitting around him for more than a couple seconds. He needs a couple of days to get his act together.

A bunch of weird shit happened on the way here, stranger than usual. Like the universe itself was trying to keep him from seeking help or something.

Honestly though, this feels more like an AA meeting than anything else. He just has to stay here six weeks or so.

He didn't drive all the way to the city of White Pine Bay in Oregon of all places to Pineview just cause he wanted to sight-see

Well he can check himself out whenever he wants but first he's wanting to exhaust any and all options.

There's something wrong with him.

A darkness growing, a cloud looming over him. One that is just wiping strangers and friends alike off the map if they so much as look at him funny.

He didn't ever think he'd end up here though and on that honest level he's a little disappointed that there is no straight-jacket in sight.

Well yeah now, he's sure that he's binge watched way too many pointless movies.

"Am I rooming with anyone? I should have asked sooner. Half my stuff is still outside in the car." He knows that he should have made arrangements to get situated before actually walking in and sitting down on..

 _What is this...a support group?_

All he did was walk in and say his name, he hasn't even signed anything yet. So that was a little surprising.

There are nine strangers sitting around in what is basically a circle, ten if he includes himself. A couple of nurses are standing nearby, looking uninterested because this is probably routine by now.

He runs a hand over his face as he leans back into the chair in an attempt to move without actually doing much.

Norman thinks the guy looks tired or jaded. Either way he's giving off this weird vibe like he belongs to world.

Not cooped up in a place like this.

This guy is someone undoubtedly _vital_ if the special treatment he's received since walking into the room was an indication.

That thought has him uncomfortable. Unsure if he wants this guy's attention.

So far it's not an issue.

Even though he's clearly sensing something's off, amiss with this character. The guy gives an air of power.

.

"What. Oh, I'm next. Great. Hello fellow humans, my name is Norman Bates. I don't know why my place of employment is relevant but I guess we're going with that..I'm a motel manager."

"I'm here today, in this looney bin I must say because apparently my _mother_ thinks I'm a menace to society or myself. I'm not sure which is worse."

He exhaled slowly then looks at all of the people present. His baggage is placed near a table to the far left of the room along with some others.

All he has to do is survive the next forty two days.

Norman is looking slightly passive aggressive as he speaks but lightens up towards the end of it.

Even though he's cracking a little smile that basically vanishes a couple of seconds later everyone present currently can see that he looks sane, well for the most part.

Damien is going to keep it at '-ish' because one, he doesn't know the guy and two. He doesn't really care to.

For all he knows the guy could be a total psycho.

Norman is feeling let down by the fact that he has yet to be shoved in a room with padded walls or seen some poor soul being forced into a straight-jacket.

Maybe he's read too many useless books.

"I'd like to request a single room." Norman reins the persona of someone well accustomed to giving an air of hospitality.

Damien thinks this kid should be doing something other than spend his time here.

He doesn't want to be here either and he wouldn't be if the word 'seal' wasn't in the back of his mind like the luring of siren.

Or if the mark of Satan wasn't etched into the back of his skull like a birth-mark.

He just wished he'd brought his camera before entering the room. This place looks bleak enough.

"This is like on a first come first serve basis, right?" Norman speaks again as he moves to stand while looking like he's actually willing to go roam about the place.

.

.

"Why is it that you're the only person here without a set curfew?" Norman speaks again for the first time in a couple of minutes.

He's done unpacking and not really sure why he got stuck with the only other person that looks like they don't belong here.

The guy raises an eyebrow before meeting his eyes and taking a step forward, closer just not overly so.

"I've got a persuasive advocate. Why do you care. I know you've been watching me kid. Just so we're clear, I don't go for someone so..young."

Damien looks him over before smirking and backing up to get his camera. He opens the door and walks out as if nothing happened.

Norman looks confused for a moment before sitting down on his bed and wondering how he's going to get through this without killing anyone.


	2. Bring

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related with or to the shows 'Bates Motel' or 'Damien'. Like characters etc.

 **Pairing:** Norman/Damien

 **Summary:** "I'm not evil epitomized and he's not the Antichrist incarnate. Look, if either of us actually believed that then we would belong here. This is my mother's doing on my end and a psychotic break or episode on his. Nothing more."

 **M note:** I did a little research but I will probably be off-ish on some details. It's irrelevant though since this story will lean towards the Asylum AU side.

The romance will be slow built cause that's fun. The characters are probably ooc and I'm not sure where I'll take this even though the ending is pretty much set.

* * *

Revelation- 13:18

 _Here is wisdom, let him that hath understanding, count the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man and his number is 666_

* * *

It's around 3 A.M. or so he is chalking it when Norman stared into the darkness, towards the door before yawning and laying back down after a second of silence.

Just to be on the cautious side before falling back asleep he mumbled out the words.

"No, thank you. Go away.. I don't require room service at the moment." As he unintentionally muffles out the rest of the speech when he pulls his pillow onto his face and shifts closer to the wall.

His sleep muddled therefore addled mind has him thinking that he hears someone knocking on his door after a few seconds. Whispering quickly as if scared they'll be caught or something.

They ask for 'help' and some other words he can't quite catch but that doesn't add up.

He's in a safe place according to the pamphlets, his mom and his (hopefully) temporary therapist.

Assuming that he buys it and all is good here, by association the rest of the residents here should be A-OK.

He is glad the knocking has stopped and he is almost certain someone is doing it to mess with him but now it has gotten worse because he can hear people laughing and not really bothering to tone it down.

Or at least put in the effort to stifle it until someone calls out the name 'Leslie' followed by the words 'girl please' and 'you know I love you'.

That is obviously the failure of an attempt to keep quiet on behalf of the people on the other side of the door.

He is so far doing a killer job in resisting the urge to throw a shoes at the door.

Out of decorum and let's be honest, self preservation lest he gets injected with a sedative but by all means they will tone it down and let him sleep.

Eavesdropping has never been his forte because he has no interest in anyone elses business but c'mon they are pushing it and he just wants to tune it out.

He wishes he'd bought headphones or better yet that he'd be able to get access to some here.

Apparently. It won't happen though since he sees he can't even have shoe laces as they are 'hazardous'.

He is actually kinda wanting someone to come by the room. Preferably a person with authority so that he can complain accordingly.

By some miracle he has not called up to notice that he 'roomate' is MIA.

The fact that he is nowhere in sight is both auspicious and suspicious because who in their right mind would forgo sleep when the time doesn't call for it.

Then again the guy probably has friends or someone other than his parents waiting for him on the outside of the 'hospice'.

Maybe he is calling them. And he brushes the thought aside because his mother has not bothered to call him and that just sucks.

Giving up on trying to capture the fleeting feeling of comfort just yet isn't an option because he is pretty sure he deserves a good nights rest.

But these folks are pushing it and he knows that he is bound to snap if he doesn't chill and go to his happy place.

He doesn't think it normal that it has yet to be a full day here and he's already fed up.

.

His roomie is nowhere in sight but that is okay.

It is not like he really cares. All he wants is for the days to move forward so that he can go home soon and prove his mother wrong.

So he grabs onto his pillow harder and turns onto his stomach as he pulls at his blanket.

By the time he opens his eyes again he is aware of knocking. And that he's got drool on his pillow.

As he moves to wipe it on his shirt the knocking seems to come rapidly and the voice has a greater degree of urgency to it.

"Hold on..." Norman pushes himself up with the palms of his hands long enough to lift his head up and glares at the ceiling.

A low sigh escapes him as he keeps looking at ceiling he can't really see because the light isn't on.

As if it were the thing conspiring against him before looking at the door pointedly and reaching out in the dark with his feet for his shoes.

By the time he had found his shoes and reached for the doorknob it clicked open a little too loudly for his taste and at this point Norman just knows that in this moment he's the one with the issues.

He is insufferable because he is not in his bed or in his room. This is breaking routine on so many count and it is surprisingly nerve racking.

So he is assuming that he is getting and added dose of anxiety and is therefore overly sensitive and aware of everything.

"Damien?" Norman puzzles at the hopeful weariness of his voice but takes a deep breath anyway while het akes some steps forward cautiously.

The door handle rattles slightly and this isn't one of his bravest moment, he realizes.

But that doesn't stop him as he takes some steps back and sits on his bed wearily.

Even though the light switch is off there is light shining from the hallway into the room now that the door is open and he moves his hand to straighten out his shirt for some unknown reason.

.

.

He takes in Damien's appearance, redirects his staring on the wall past him and sighs as he notes mentally that he should be able to get back to sleep without disturbance now.

Damien noticed him looking at the camera then at the mud on his shoes and clothes. But he knows the kid isn't working for Ann Rutledge or that weird cult like association of hers that has been keeping tabs on his every move.

He is certain.

This boy isn't a problem. He is not a spy.

"S'up.." He doesn't wait for a response as he pushes past him and takes a deep breath while tossing a set of keys and a stack of what appear to be files onto his mattress.

Norman allows the look of suspicion evaporate from his face as he sits up straight and pulls the blanket closer so that it not falling off the edge of the mattress.

"Did you see anything weird or out of place.. Someone random, perhaps walking aimlessly. Whispering nonsense. Well they sounded in distress..."

Saying out loud if off-putting and he just wants to dismiss his own words therefore contradicting himself, sure but that's not too bad.

Damien raises an eyebrow before pressing his lips together as if contemplating. "What? No. Just the night staff. I had no idea they would be this great."

He smiles slightly before looking at him again and seemingly attempting to reassure him as he says. "Either you were dreaming or I should be concerned. You think I should alert the night staff?"

Norman shakes his head and raises his hands dismissively but then he notices that it's too much and puts his hands back down.

"Oh. No worries. You know what, I must have imagined it. Like a nightmare. Why did you stay out?.."

"I get bouts of insomnia sometimes, I'm used to it. I went for a walk." He is pretty sure his roommate didn't ask but he might as well be informed and on the same page in case someone wants to bring it up to start problems.

"Thanks for opening the door by the way. Norman was it?" He knows the words are something a bit petty on his end but he is okay with that.

"Yes. It seems that the staff has quieted down and you snuck in without reprimand or warnings about curfew. How..convenient."

Norman breathes before looking at his roommate with slight edge of doubt before it dies off and he is smiling as if he'd gotten away with something.

"What no. There was no sneaking. And the talking to yourself, making observations and coming to conclusions. Don't to that. I'm serious, cut it out it's weird. Uh although, I guess you're in the right place for it."

Norman felt heat rise up to his face as he rolled his eyes sits further back.

"Well nevertheless, if I had a scheme in mind I think this would be something a little more elaborate that just knocking on your door in the middle of the night just to freak you out. It's so unnecessary."

"Mhm alright. Well, rest assured. You're ruled out as a suspect."

"One question. When did you get here?"

"Today. About an hour thirty-five before you."

"Ah that's cool. Well, okay. I've got a complementary duffle bag courtesy of Pineview. A comb, new toothbrush, decent toothpaste, deodorant, soap. Earplugs...Internally he's like ' _What the fuck._ And _Why?_ ' but then common sense kicks in and outwordly he just says.

"Huh, I doubt I'll need those. Some towels, a robe and some slippers. Well alright."

"Oh I was forgetting, plus tomorrow's/this week's schedule." He hold up the piece of paper and passes it over. It's front and back and both show the same timeframes and activities.

He moved to the right, taking a handful of steps to ensure that the door was closed and locked before flipping the switch so the light would turn on.

"Tell me about yourself. We're going to be stuck with each other for the foreseeable future, these weeks."

Norman knows this conversation can wait a couple of hours or better yet a few days but he's kind of interested in hearing him out because it seems sleep has illuded him.

"Uh. Right now? Okay. I guess. It'll be counted as practice to help me prepare for my evaluation in the morning. You had one yet?"

"No. I have it booked after breakfast." In truth he is somewhat nervous about it but he figures he might as well be honest and get the help if his mother is seriously that concerned.

Even though she is the only person going an a murder spree and denying it by making him out to be missing a few screws.

Still he's taking the fall so he wants to use it to his advantage.

Damien moved his things to the nightstand next to him and sighed softly.

"I was born in Rome. Only child, as far as I'm aware. My adoptive father was an American Ambassador for the UK. and my mother, his secretary. I know. Right?"

.

.

.

He looked away as if something were troubling him but he seemed to get over quickly as he spoke again."

Anyway. I was raised in London until we moved to America. When I was around ten or so my parents died. Some details are fuzzy. I'm guessing repressed memories or something."

He laughs and it's void of humor before clearing his throat and continuing quickly.

"My uncle let me live in his house for some years. After that the President of The United States took me under his wing but that isn't important." He looks at his dresser and ponders putting the rest of his stuff away.

"If anything he just wanted to increase the amount of my trust fund. He called himself a family friend, said I'd take my father's place. Make him proud."

He looks at his camera and smiles at it fondly before moving off from his bed and pulling at the covers.

"But I told him the Senate isn't for me. I didn't want that life so I studied photography and investigate journalism."

"I wanted to let the world see what was happening outside of their comfort zone so I became a war photographer. I seen some fucked up shit."

Norman stared at the him, taking in the enthusiasm and determination. Having mistakenly assumed what he was going to hear was going to be a tale of horror.

Or see his eyes go cloudy with fear of the memories. Mayhaps, guarded as he spoke of the war. Like most traumatized people but he spoke as if he missed it and Norman didn't expect to see that.

Well then. It is a good thing psychology has never interested him.

"Things that only a few have survived, even less would want to re-live. Don't get me wrong and yet I wouldn't trade that job for anything in the world. It's fascinating.."

"At least it was and then weird shit went down in Damascus, I'll elaborate on that later and I came home. Things were looking up then my girlfriend died."

"Thing just got worse from there because I just learned a group of freaks has been stalking me my whole life.. I know you probably, likely don't believe me but who comes up with shit like this?"

Damien isn't looking at him as he pulls at his hair and yanks at his shirt.

Norman looks at him with wide eyes and and open mouth as if unsure of how to proceed because last time he checked he hasn't even kissed a girl much less a guy so he is wondering if this is the right mood or if he is still asleep and experiencing a.. _Nightmare?_

 _Is this a wet dream?_ Well this both escalated quickly and isn't really erotic but he isn't completely opposed to the idea. Which is funny because he assumed they would repel based on their first encounter.

He can work with this. He licks his lips and gets ready to make a move. Before he can so much as gather his wits about himself the following words have him enlightened and disappointed.

"I have a birth mark." Damien points at the back of his head. Having completely missed the inner turmoil Norman is experiencing.

"You.. what?" The words come out strained and he's breathless with a severe case of embarrassment at what he was thinking of doing.

"t's enough proof for most but this detective assures me that it's a tattoo I got on a drunken bender."

"Anyway, kid. Norman, I'm trusting you here. With exceedingly more information than I now plan on sharing whlith the psychologist. Thank you by the way. I feel a lot better."

He turns and keeps pointing at his scalp so Norman looks at it, confusion evident all the while until he sees it and gulps.

Not sure why he's getting the urge to simultaneously trace his finger around it and or back up. Get a Bible and pray.

"I see..." There isn't much he can say so he just stands there with his fingers lingering dangerously close to the mark but pulling back slowly.

"A string of people began falling off the map so to speak and my friends stopped trusting me, my sanity and actions. I got low. Now, I'm here...Trying to better myself." Damien turns around and pulls away.

He yawns as he walks over to turn off the light when he sees that Norman goes back to his bed and pulls at his blanket. He pretends to not notice his troubled look, choosing instead to stay positive while thinking everything is fine. Even if it a fake semblance of hope.

"I'll see you in a few hours. Goodnight."


End file.
